A/N: Thanks for being such an amazing dedicated fandom. That's it. That's the note.
Warning: Disturbing imagery. Elements of NAT, abuse, and violence/gore.
Chapter 4:
The Follow Up
Emily's head was buzzing. Ever since she'd been released from the hospital she'd been having trouble sleeping. It didn't help that her mother was constantly blowing up her phone.
The pain in her chest was bad enough. But the nightmares she was having were driving her to consider cracking open the bottle in her cabinet. It mocked her in her thoughts.
Just one shot.
Just one glass.
Just one bottle.
Ironically, she didn't feel the urge to swallow a bunch of her pain medications. She'd barely touched them. Her poison was bourbon. And it started calling to her the instant she got home.
She'd been in the hospital for two weeks for her recovery. The pretty blonde surgeon visited her often.
Emily always had something cheeky to say when Alison walked into the room. Ever the wordsmith, the detective knew how to get what she wanted. If she saw a pretty girl she liked, she flirted. The doctor was no different.
Except she was different.
Emily couldn't put her finger on why she was different. Maybe it was the way Alison looked at her. Maybe it was the way she talked to her. Maybe it was because it had been six months since she'd been laid. She really needed a good fuck.
Whatever the reason, the blonde turned her on. She was so soft and gentle with her. Emily imagined she was sensual in bed. She wouldn't discover until later that she'd imagined wrong. She had no idea that the sophisticated professional had wild side.
Though the drugs made her feel hazy, she remembered their visits. She remembered a spark. And she was certain that the pain medications had nothing to do with the warm fuzzy feeling she had when the doctor walked into the room.
There was no denying that there was something blooming between them. It was in the way the detective looked at the doctor. It was in the way the doctor's touch lingered just a split second longer than it should have.
Once when Alison checked in on her Emily had pushed the boundaries by hooking her pinky finger into Alison's…just to see what she would do.
"Is this a pinky swear of some kind?" The doctor's cheeks had flushed.
"I'm hooked on you." Emily had winked.
Emily didn't let up on the flirting throughout her stay. She laid it on thick. It started to chip away at Alison's self-control.
There was one moment…a single moment that ignited a spark, perhaps lust…or perhaps something else. Whatever it was, it was a flame that neither of them could put out.
Alison had been checking Emily's stitches. She was close, close enough for Emily to smell the scent of her vanilla body wash. The blonde had leaned forward to get a better look in the exact moment that Emily adjusted herself on the bed.
Their lips were close enough to touch. Alison could smell the minty flavor of the hospital's toothpaste. She could practically taste the woman. Her eyes flickered to the brunette's lips, her urges screaming at her to kiss her.
They'd locked eyes. Emily had smiled sweetly and reached up to touch her cheek.
"We're verging on unethical here, Detective." But she'd slowly moved forward.
Just as their mouths were about to meet the sound of the door being opened behind them forced them apart. Alison had scrambled back away from the bed and grabbed Emily's chart, pretending to review it.
A nurse walked in with some of Emily's medications. The brunette had a sheepish smile on her face, like she knew they'd been caught. But Alison managed to maintain a professional expression. She'd turned to the nurse like nothing had happened and had signed off on Emily's medications. Then she'd faced her patient, who was suppressing a laugh.
Don't you dare... Alison's eyes warned.
That had only made Emily want to laugh harder.
"I'll be back after a while." Alison had cleared her throat, a nervous undertone that only Emily picked up on.
She was back in physician mode. She switched into her doctor persona so effortlessly. It fascinated Emily that she could turn it on and off so easily.
"Can't wait for my next check-up." Emily had winked, which might as well have given them away.
Alison had composed herself as she walked out of the room, but when she got out into the hallway she started to shiver. She quickly made her way to the unisex bathroom, locking herself in the small private little room. She'd leaned back against the door and let out a shuddering breath.
What is it about this woman?
The emotions were too much, too fast. The rush of things hitting her all at once made her feel dizzy.
If she let herself feel…
Darkness. A never-ending black hole. The past she wanted so desperately to shut out.
"Where is your sister?" Her mom screamed at her brother.
Alison sank to the floor as visions of her past and her present collided.
"Go away." Jason had sounded firm, demanding.
A superhero protecting someone who couldn't protect themselves.
She'd tried to tune it out, but she heard him exploding at their mother,
"I'll call the cops! Let dad try to explain the black eye. The bruises on my stomach. I have pictures…"
She was in Jason's closet, trying not to cry, rocking back and forth. She had to be quiet or her mommy would find her.
"I document it. I document everything." Jason sounded so menacing. A voice she didn't recognize. A voice that he would never use on her.
"It doesn't matter. They're coming over tonight. You don't have a choice."
"No...you...you can't do that..."
Alison's eyes were shut tightly as she focused on her breathing.
One second she was seven, hiding in her brother's closet.
The next she was opening her eyes in a hospital bathroom. And her first thought wasn't about her past.
It was about Emily.
That crooked smile. That sexy wink. Her soft fingertips lingering against her cheek. She could still feel her. She reached up and touched her face where Emily's fingers had been moments ago.
She felt a warmth in her stomach. An emotion worth feeling.
When exactly was it that she shut down? Had she always been this way? Or had she been made into the monster she saw in her reflection?
The only thing that made her feel somewhat sane was a girl she barely knew.
Emily was always waiting for her with a smile and a quirky comment. Alison could tell how much her visits meant to the brunette. And she couldn't keep herself away from her.
An hour later she was checking in on her to make sure the pain medications were sufficient.
"Couldn't stay away, huh? Don't you have other patients?" Emily was drowsy, but not so drowsy that she couldn't cock a flirty eyebrow at her. "I'm your favorite, aren't I?"
Emily drifted in and out of consciousness for most of her stay, but she was always alert when Alison was there. She looked forward to seeing her.
No one had caught on to their bedside banter. Emily had enjoyed that banter. It got her through her stay at the hospital. They had really bonded.
They were both disappointed when she was discharged.
Emily's first night home she hadn't slept at all. The pain was numbing in a way. Enough so that she opened her kitchen cabinet and stared at the bottle of bourbon on the top shelf.
Just one glass.
She thought about calling Toby, but nixed the idea. Instead, she slammed the cabinet closed and locked herself in her room.
The first night she'd slept had been night four. And the reason she'd slept was because she went in for a follow up exam and crossed paths with Alison. The surgeon had been busy, so they only had enough time to exchange pleasantries, but those three minutes were enough to satisfy her.
She'd dreamed of Alison that night.
Alison had been dreaming about her for weeks.
Emily hoped that eventually all their flirting would turn into something more. She wanted more than three minutes the next time she saw her.
She spent two weeks at home as her body healed.
The pain slowly dissipated. But the nightmares didn't go away.
She saw him. She saw the whites of his eyes. The flash of the muzzle. She felt the sharp pain in her chest. She felt the warm blood on her hands. Her life slipping away.
She woke up in a cold sweat, her fingers clinging to the sheets, her breath ragged and heaving.
She hadn't had nightmares in the hospital. She'd had a beautiful distraction.
Being alone with her thoughts was hard. She couldn't stop thinking about the conflicting feelings she had for Alison. She hadn't cared about anyone since Maya. She hadn't let herself care about anyone since then. She'd fucked other girls throughout the years, but none of them made her feel anything. Most of them were one-night stands. She'd only had a couple of short term relationships. They'd all been a means to satisfy sexual needs. But there were no feelings attached. She'd always preferred it that way.
Until now.
She didn't realize she wanted more until she'd bonded with her surgeon.
To distract herself she tried to think about the case. Toby was being tight-lipped so she could get her rest, but that didn't stop her from working at home.
None of the murders added up. All of the victims were so different. The killer was precise in their kills, but sloppy about the victims they chose. Most killers had a type. This one seemed to pluck people out of a crowd at random.
What am I missing?
Emily spent the day going over the victim's files, even though she was under strict orders not to do anything work related. She was on a mandatory leave of absence. The station took their worker's comp very seriously. They didn't want her back on duty until she was fully cleared.
She got consumed in the profiles of the victims and tried to get inside the mind of the killer.
A knock at her door is what finally drew her out of her work coma. She glanced at the clock and rubbed her eyes.
It was her night for dinner with her mother. Only this time her mother had brought the dinner to her.
Despite her constant calls, her mom had been trying to give her space. Emily had been annoyed by her ambush in the hospital, not just because she didn't want the drama associated that came with her mother, but also because she'd been making heart eyes at the surgeon who had saved her life when her mother barged in.
Emily had been so convinced that she would be bedding that doctor, even with a hole in her chest.
Who flirts after getting shot? I am such a dumbass…
But the blonde had flirted back.
Emily scrambled to put away the files, leaving a few folders on the table. She walked over and unchained the chain on her door, opening it to let her mom in.
She was carrying a dish with freshly cooked pot-stickers.
The instant Pam Fields stepped foot into the house Emily could see her analyzing the files on the table and the piles of clothing scattered around. Coffee cups and paper plates everywhere. Emily could feel her silent judgment.
The older woman sighed.
"This place looks like a tornado came through here." She picked a flannel shirt up off of the floor.
Emily tilted her head and looked at it, unable to remember if it was hers or if one of her one-night stands had left it.
"Haven't felt up to cleaning. There's a hole in my chest, remember?" She walked into the kitchen, her mother following with the pot-stickers.
"Yes." Her mother looked at her pointedly, not appreciating the reminder that she'd almost died. "I remember." She put the pot-stickers down on the table and faced her daughter. "I wish you'd let me help you." Her eyes wandered to the dirty dishes in the sink. "I would be happy to help you out until you're better."
"I like the place the way it is. It's my mess. I call it…" Emily looked around, "…organized chaos."
She reached up to open the cabinet to get some dishes, but a shooting pain jolted her ribs. It didn't happen much anymore, but when it happened it knocked the wind out of her.
Pam turned around to mention the dishes in the sink, but she saw the look of pain on her daughter's face and her expression softened. She walked up behind her.
"Here. Let me."
Emily slid over, letting her mother reach up to grab the dishes.
Their eyes met as Pam was carefully lowering them to the counter. Emily blinked and she was sixteen years old again, listening to her mother and father argue about her sexuality.
"This is who someone is making her in to!"
When Emily looked at her mother all she could see was Maya's pained face,
"Your mother hates me."
Emily's eyes darted away from her mom's.
She didn't outright blame her mom for Maya's death, but oftentimes she wondered had she been more assertive with her parents, more confident, would she have been on a different path with Maya?
Maybe she'd still be alive.
Pam noticed the way her daughter had looked at her. She hadn't looked at her the same since Maya died.
The older woman let out a heavy sigh. She touched Emily's cheek, something she didn't normally do, and forced her daughter to look at her.
"I can't bring her back." There were tears in her eyes. "I know you blame me…"
"Mom, I don't…" Emily's jaw trembled, and Pam felt it. "I just…I look at you and I see who you used to be. I see how much you hated that I was with her."
"I didn't hate…" Pam lowered her hand, struggling to find the right words, "Emily, I was…ignorant. And intolerant. And I won't stand here and make excuses for that. I was wrong." She dropped her hands to her sides. "I…I don't know if I've ever said that to you." She hadn't. "I didn't know it would rip us apart like this. I didn't know I was going to lose you."
"You didn't lose me. I'm standing right here." She touched her mother's shoulder.
"That's not what I mean." She lowered her head. "You never talk to me. You never let me in."
Because she had broken her heart. The one person who was never supposed to hurt her, who should have loved her unconditionally, had destroyed her.
There was a lull. A quiet silence. Emily reached out and took her mom's hand.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you after I was shot." She swallowed hard. "All I could think about was dad."
Not in a sense that she had wanted him instead of her mom, though she had, but in the sense that it reminded her too much of his death.
She'd been with her mother when the uniformed officers had showed up at Pam's front door. They'd been in the middle of dinner.
The older woman had collapsed to her knees and let out a keening wail before the officers had a chance to tell her. Emily had never seen her mother look more broken than she had in that very moment.
Emily couldn't watch her mother cry over her in that hospital room, so when Alison asked if there was anyone they needed to call she'd said no.
"I miss him." Her mother squeezed her hand.
Emily squeezed back.
"Me too." Then she let go of her hand and grabbed the dishes to set the table.
Pam sat down across from Emily and reached for a serving of food.
"How is Sabrina?" Her mother carefully placed a pot-sticker on her plate.
"We broke up six months ago."
She'd started dating Sabrina, a very nice barista, after a string of bad relationship choices and one-night stands. She didn't even remember the last one's name. She just remembered drilling a pink strap inside of her while the girl yanked on her hair. She had been buried inside of a total stranger that night. It wasn't her finest moment. But it was a defining moment. A moment that made her turn her life around. She realized that she hadn't connected to anyone since Maya. And she realized that a string of random strangers wasn't going to fix her broken heart.
So she'd tried, actually tried to forge a real relationship. She'd met Sabrina in the coffee shop in town. She seemed really nice. They'd hit it off. Emily had asked her out on a date and forced herself to take it slow with her. But she'd started to get restless. She missed having wild crazy sex. She knew it wasn't healthy, but she was never bored when she was hooking up with strangers.
Her mother would clutch her pearls to the point of ripping them apart if she knew what her babygirl had done in the bedroom after Maya's death. She wasn't surprised to see her gasp in shock about her break-up with Sabrina.
"You broke up?" Her mother brought her hand up to her chest like she was having a heart attack. She had a look of surprise on her face. "But she was so nice!"
Maybe I'm not looking for nice. Maybe I don't deserve nice.
Except…maybe she did deserve nice.
She hadn't been able to stop thinking about the blonde. After she'd been shot everything was mostly a blur, but she remembered one thing very clearly.
Her.
She remembered the way she felt when she looked at her…her kind reassuring gaze. She remembered her soft touch. The way her fingers curled into hers. She remembered wanting to feel her skin. She'd dreamed about her. Their naked bodies melding together, fingers everywhere, tongues exploring each other. Moans. Groans. Ecstasy.
Little did she know that the doctor was having wild fantasies about her, too.
"I guess that explains why she wasn't at the hospital." Pam delicately took a bite off of her fork and stared at her.
Even though she didn't say anything more, Emily could tell what Pam was thinking,
This is what I meant about you not talking to me.
"Speaking of the hospital, I go tomorrow to get my stitches out."
"Will you be seeing that blonde surgeon again?" Pam smiled. "She was very charming. I liked her."
Emily actually felt herself blushing. Her mom's lips curled up into a knowing smile.
"I knew you liked her."
Emily tried to relax and unwind as her mother told her about her week. Playing Mahjong with her friends. Her trips to the library. Pam tried to keep herself busy so she wouldn't think of the empty space in her bed. Her solution for grief was to distract herself.
Emily was a lot like that. A busy mind couldn't stop and grieve. A busy mind couldn't stop and hurt.
Emily's eyes occasionally flittered to the cabinet. Her mother didn't know how bad her drinking had gotten. That was between her and Toby.
When her mom left, after insisting on tidying her place up, Emily felt the absence of her presence. She hadn't felt that way in a long time. Normally she was relieved to get away from her, but she had been providing her with the distraction she needed.
She glanced at the cabinet.
Why do I even keep that stupid fucking bottle in the house? I should just pour it down the drain…
But no…if she did that she was just proving to herself that she couldn't resist temptation. She kept it around as a pacifier.
Like a fucking child.
In case one day things got so bad…
Distract yourself.
She sat down on her couch again and started rummaging through files.
A stockbroker. A swimmer. A dancer. None with previous records.
She flipped through the photos.
Three different victims. Three different mutilations. Three different poses.
"What am I missing?" She'd uttered it no less than a dozen times that day.
Some of the bodies are moved, but some aren't.
What did that mean?
The killer posed all the victims, but they were in varying locations.
It had to be someone local, otherwise why continue to kill in Rosewood? They'd had almost sixteen years to take their act on the road, but it was always Rosewood. Nothing else in any of the databases matched the SLK's profile.
She stared at the files until her eyes started to blur.
She ended up falling asleep on the couch.
She woke up in the morning with a file on her chest and another on the floor.
She sat up. Her body was stiff and sore. But at least she hadn't caved to her cravings. At least she was not hungover.
She made herself a fresh pot of coffee and turned on her police scanner and listened to the chatter as she read the paper. It was white noise that drowned out the raging bastard in her head.
Halfway into her breakfast she heard a call come in about another body. Another victim that matched the SLK's MO.
She tried to call Toby, but he didn't answer.
She tried again several times over the next few hours.
He was clearly avoiding her. He wanted her to take it easy, but Emily didn't know how to take it easy.
She changed into a pair of khakis and a loose red blouse and then she drove down to the station.
Toby was not happy when he saw her walking in.
"What part of mandatory time off do you not understand, Fields?" He sounded like a cranky old man, and Emily loved it.
"Heard they found another body." Emily plopped down in her chair in front of her desk. She felt a tugging sensation against her skin where her sutures were.
"You're supposed to be on leave."
Toby shot her a disapproving look. The shooting hadn't just messed with Emily physically and emotionally. It had also scared the hell out of Toby.
"And we're supposed to be partners. You should have called me." She lowered her head and stared at him.
"No." Toby argued. "Because you're supposed to be healing from the fucking gunshot wound in your chest."
He amplified the extent of her injuries by motioning directly to her heart.
"That's so last month." She sounded blasé, but there was still an echo of trepidation in her tone. She was still recovering. "My stitches are coming out today. I'll get a note from my doctor." She flashed him a cheeky grin as she reached for an apple. She bit into it.
"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days." He uttered. "I'm going to tell you what you're not going to do. You're not going to push yourself too hard and end up back in the hospital…"
"Cross my heart." She lifted her hand and drew an X over her chest with her index finger. "And hope not to die…again."
"You're not funny." His gruff appearance told Emily that he hadn't slept last night. He'd been up all night going over the case files, too. Now he had an additional file on top of the others.
"So…" She leaned back in her chair, taking another bite of the apple. "Tell me about the new body."
She reached for the file.
Toby slammed his palm down on top of it, but when he looked up at her his expression softened. He knew her. He knew that if he kept it from her she'd find a way to get it herself. He sighed and rolled his eyes. At least at the station he could keep an eye on her.
"Fine. But I'm doing the heavy lifting. You're on desk duty for this one." He slowly lifted his hand.
Emily opened the folder and the first thing she saw was a photo of a dark-haired man with an olive complexion splayed out on his couch. He was completely naked. His lips had been sliced off, his tongue cut out. His hand had been sewed to his crotch with fishing wire.
Emily swallowed. She recognized the fishing wire. She'd seen it before.
Lyndon.
There was a laptop resting against the man's abdomen.
"Garrett Reynolds. Thirty-two-year old male…"
"Thomas was thirty-two." Emily reached for Ian Thomas's file.
"There's more." Toby glanced at her. "Reynolds works at Rosewood High. In Thomas's old position."
"Girl's lacrosse coach?" Emily asked, putting the folders down. "Did they know each other?"
There was a wrinkle in Toby's brow.
"This is where things get interesting…" He pulled a flash drive out of a yellow folder.
He plugged it into the computer. Emily swung her chair around his desk so she could see the screen.
Before opening the video file he made a solemn face, pressing his lips together and scrunching his nose up.
"It's graphic."
"I figured." Emily nodded.
But nothing could have prepared her for what she was about to see.
The video started out shaky. A younger mid-twenty year old Ian was leading a drunk girl towards a renovated barn. She was giggling, high pitched and slurring her words. The camera flung around and there was Garrett, staring back at them, snorting.
"She's so fucking wasted." He laughed and then aimed the camera towards Ian and the girl again.
He got a glimpse of the girl's face as he walked up next to her. She playfully pressed her hand over the lens of the camera and laughed. She was young. Fifteen. Maybe fourteen.
Emily made a fist and gasped. She pulled her hand up to her face and bit down against her knuckle.
"Shhh, you're going to get me in trouble," she said as they walked into the barn.
Garrett closed the door. Ian led her over to a soft pallet and laid her down. Her head rolled to the side, her eyes halfway closed. Ian leaned over her and unzipped his pants…
"Okay." Emily paused the video. "That's enough. I get the picture."
It was a picture she wished she could erase from her memory entirely.
"There are dozens of these videos. All high school girls." Toby pulled the flash drive out. "This was in Reynold's laptop when we found him." He made a face. "It was playing on a loop."
So the killer left it for us to see. Why? Is this a message?
Maybe this was the connection they'd been looking for.
"So, not only did they know each other. They were making perverted pornos with children." She shuddered. "Where do Talia and Sydney fit in? Do they have records?"
"Squeaky clean. Talia had a few coworkers busted for prostitution back before she turned her life around, but she was clean. She did everything above the books. Sydney had pretty much been married to her swimming since middle school. Straight A student. Involved in a ton of clubs. She even organized a vigil after one of her teammates died."
That dead teammate hadn't just died. She was murdered by Sydney. But only Alison knew that.
Emily glanced at Sydney's file and then pulled up the information on the teammate.
"How does a healthy seventeen-year-old just drop dead?" That pinged Emily's radar.
"Myocarditis, according to her family's statement. Some kind of infection. Bacterial. Fungal. Could have even been a virus. Not uncommon, especially for swimmers, depending on where they swim. Water is full of bacteria and all kinds of other things. If she swam outside anything chlorinated she could have picked it up anywhere."
A solid medical answer to Emily's question.
What the girl's doctor and her family didn't know was that the infection had been caused by a concoction of bacteria that Sydney developed. She'd drugged her water bottle.
Alison had discovered the same type of bacteria in another swimmer's bottle when Sydney was in college. It's how she drew the connections. It's how Sydney ended up on her radar.
"Maybe Talia and Sydney were involved somehow?" Toby glanced between the files on his desk.
"Both are eight years younger. They would have been teenagers when Thomas and Reynolds were doing this." Emily let her thought process play out. "Maybe they knew about it and someone was trying to keep them quiet."
She could see a secret like that being a motive for murder.
"But why would the person who went after the girls also go after the perpetrators?" Toby flipped to Garrett's file. "Why would someone who wanted to keep Talia and Sydney quiet also care to kill Ian and Garrett? They had as much reason to keep quiet as anyone else involved in their sick little club."
Toby's eyes flickered to the laptop screen. Emily saw a light brighten in his eyes. He was working through theories in his head.
"Maybe it started with the girls. Maybe one of the men did this to them." He was thinking out loud. He rubbed his temple. "Maybe someone fancies themselves a vigilante of some sort? Angry boyfriend of one of the vics? A father whose daughter was preyed upon?"
"Someone looking for revenge." Emily stared at the frozen video on screen. It made her feel like hurling.
She'd seen some horrific things in her time as an officer of the law, but nothing quite struck her like pedophilia. Crimes against children made her blood boil.
"If the killer is one of their victims how does that tie in to the earlier murders? If the person who killed Ian and Garrett is the same person who started all those years ago that means our perp would have been between thirteen and fifteen." Toby rubbed his forehead, too much information to process. "That's a little young."
"Ted Bundy started when he was fourteen." Emily stared at a file that had big blocky letters in permanent marker that said, WILDEN, DARREN. "Why start with Wilden?"
Why you? Who are you? What did you do?
"I don't know." Toby pushed back away from his desk. "The kills are so organized, but the locations and placements of the bodies and victim selection are disorganized. None of this makes any sense." He grumbled. "It feels like my head is going to explode."
"Do we have IDs on the girls in the videos?" Those poor girls.
"Some. Ian and Garrett were apparently doing this for years. And they weren't the only ones. It dates back for decades. They have ties to cases that were linked to child pornography from the 1960s. Some underground ring."
Of course. Because men have been fucking perverts since the dawn of time.
She imagined a perverted caveman, and she realized that even though time had passed, the mentality of those with the male anatomy were the same primal idiots they'd always been.
Most of them, anyway. Some had evolved.
She looked at her partner, one of those evolved men she admired.
"We're looking into it." Toby flipped a sheet of paper over.
"You bring the special units in on it yet?" Sexual crimes against children was out of their jurisdiction. There was a task force that specialized in that specific area, but since Ian and Garrett were murdered and part of the SLK case, Homicide had access to the evidence as well.
"Sent it over to them." Toby shrugged. "But since both Thomas and Reynolds are dead and they don't have a bead on anyone else involved they don't really know what they want to do with it. Maybe find the girls, see if anyone else was involved. Could give us a string of suspects or point us to our killer. They're going to keep us updated."
Emily turned the photo, trying to track different angles. It was amazing that she'd become so desensitized that she saw the scene and not the body anymore.
She had to see the scene when she was working.
If she thought about the body she thought about Maya.
Maya's killing didn't fit, but she was at the scene of Lyndon's murder. Had she walked in on it? Had her only crime been being at the wrong place at the wrong time?
The medical examiner put hers and Lyndon's time of death about an hour after Maya had stormed away from their fight.
I should have followed her.
Emily tried not to think about her past.
"Their bodies are posed in sexual and biblical ways, but they're not sexualized." Emily opened Talia's file and looked at the way she'd been posed, fingers fixed to her crotch. Two of them had actually been curled inside her. "The perp isn't raping any of them…isn't doing anything sexual to them. They're making the victims do it to themselves."
She thought of Maya and cringed. The scene of her crime was so different. Lyndon had been posed. Maya hadn't.
What was Lyndon's crime? What was Maya's?
"What do the older victims have in common here?" Emily questioned.
Toby reached for a file.
"First one we know of is Wilden. It all started with him sixteen years ago. He wasn't even from Rosewood. He just came up for a job interview."
Sixteen years ago.
She'd been a teenager at the time, barely a teenager. A quiet little pubescent girl learning about tampons and pads from her mother.
"What was the job interview for?" She'd missed that part of his file.
"Police officer."
The irony was not lost on either one of them.
"So…was the killer already here or did they follow him here?" Emily asked, though the question was to herself more than Toby.
"I would assume here. I mean, who the hell would travel to Rosewood for something like this? Has to be someone local. Maybe they were thinking bells wouldn't go off if they killed an out-of-towner." Toby's brows furrowed at the file.
Emily had never realized how furry his eyebrows were. They didn't really match. They were sisters, not twins. That's something she'd heard in the beauty world. She wasn't sure who wouldn't want matching eyebrows.
She shook her head. Why was she thinking about eyebrows? She rubbed her eyes, realizing just how little sleep she'd gotten the past few weeks.
"So…do we go back to the beginning to get to the end?" She asked.
"Knock yourself out. I've gone over that damn thing hundreds of times in the past week." Toby curled his lip up.
The gruesome crimes were starting to get to him. She could see the bags under his eyes. She could see the thin skin falling off of his bones.
"Hey." She playfully popped his cheek with her palm. "You taking care of yourself, Cavanaugh?"
He looked amused, but annoyed as he answered,
"Better care than you're taking of yourself."
"Please. I was shot a month ago and I'm in peak physical condition compared to you." Emily scoffed and then turned her attention back to the files in front of her.
She sorted through them, trying to get into the mindset of the killer. She stared at the pictures of the victims.
She cringed. It was hard to think of them as victims now that she knew what Ian Thomas and Garrett Reynolds did for fun.
Some of the bodies are moved and some aren't. How do you decide?
She looked at the picture of Ian. The coroner's report stated that he'd died of blood loss after the amputation, which meant that he was alive when his wang was being hacked off. High levels of histamines in his blood report indicated that he'd been awake the entire time.
You torture them. You want them to feel pain. Why? What do you get out of it?
The kills had all been carefully planned.
Was it personal? Did you know them? Did they hurt you? Did you want them to see your face?
She had been angry enough to want to kill Maya's murderer once, but she knew she could never follow through. She couldn't look anyone in the eyes and watch the life go out of them, not unless her life was threatened.
No traces of drugs. How do you get them subdued?
It had to be someone who had sway…someone who convinced them they were safe. Someone charming. Someone who could get their victim in a position to be killed. Or someone the victims considered a friend, someone popular perhaps?
An untraceable substance hadn't crossed her mind. The detectives didn't have any reason to believe the victims were being drugged.
Are you married or single?
It could be either. If it was someone married they'd have to have a job that kept them away a lot without the spouse asking questions. Which could mean a number of things.
She stared at the image of Wilden. He had been found in an Airbnb bed, handcuffed with a ball-gag in his mouth. Also missing part of his manly appendage. If it was someone young maybe they'd had help. It was hard to imagine that a fourteen-year-old kid had been able to overpower him.
The killer could be anywhere from thirty to fifty years old. Someone seasoned. A veteran with skills.
You escalated.
Why did you escalate?
And why wait so long between kills?
Prior to Talia there hadn't been a kill in almost three years. Before her it was a woman named Meredith Sorenson. A prominent student at a prestigious university. Her body had been put on display for the whole campus to see.
But no one had seen a thing.
This person was careful. Meticulous. They took their time with the kills. But they were also messy. Botched amputations. Poorly woven sutures…
Sutures.
"Crap." Emily exclaimed out loud. She glanced at the clock and touched her chest. Her doctor's appointment was in five minutes.
"Everything okay?" Toby looked up from the mess of notes he'd been taking.
"Yeah." Emily leaped to her feet, grabbing her jacket. "I'm going to be late for my appointment."
"Wanna take the cruiser? I could get you there on time."
"Using an official government vehicle for non-official purposes?" She lifted a brow at him in amusement.
"I like playing with the siren." He smiled playfully.
Though she knew he wasn't playing. He really would do anything for her. He'd proved it in the past.
"Appreciate it, but I'm good." She reached for her keys.
She waved to him and then rushed out and climbed in her car. She thought about the blonde doctor the entire way there.
Normally it wasn't customary for surgeons to take sutures out. Then again, it wasn't customary for surgeons to spend so much time with their patients. Alison wasn't a normal surgeon.
She wasn't sure if she'd be seeing Alison or not, but she took a few minutes to primp in her car in the parking lot. She ran a brush through her hair and put on a thin layer of lipstick. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. She adjusted the black bra underneath. It was the first time she'd put on a bra in weeks. The pressure of it irritated her healing injury.
She took a few extra minutes to make sure she looked irresistible, but as she was finishing up a strange thought popped into her head.
What if Alison was just as warm and kind and friendly to all of her other patients? What if she was reading the situation all wrong? Alison did dozens of procedures every week. What if her banter was just her being polite?
What if she was just a name on chart to the blonde?
Would she remember her?
Emily was sure she'd felt something pass between them, but maybe it was just wishful thinking and a drug-induced haze.
She'd had fun flirting with her either way.
To Emily's delight Alison was standing in the lobby when she walked in. The blonde had her back to her. She was talking on the phone.
"How are her stats?" From the side Emily could see a look of concentration on her face. The doctor brought her index finger up to her lip as she listened to the response on the other end of the phone. "Good."
The tension in her shoulders faded. Her tone was warm and buttery.
"That's wonderful. I'll let her mother know. Get her ready for discharge." There was a pause. "Thank you so much, Anne."
She hung up the phone and turned on her heels…and nearly ran directly in to Emily.
"Detective." She gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry." She threw her hands up between them just short of colliding with her.
"Emily." Emily smiled at her, steadying her on her feet.
Alison smirked. That's what she'd been after. She assumed that if she referred to Emily's title enough it would subconsciously make the brunette feel like she'd made the decision to have Alison call her by her first name.
"Emily." The blonde smiled back. "We have got to stop meeting like this."
"I like our meetings." Emily grinned.
Alison lowered her head bashfully. She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Then she took in Emily's appearance. It was the first time she'd seen her in anything other than a hospital gown or sweats. She'd seen her once when Emily went in for her follow up. She'd seen her name on the schedule that day, but she was booked solid in surgery, so she hadn't had enough time to catch up with her.
The detective's curves were quite lovely. Her shirt hugged her chest. The buttons were slightly undone, revealing her cleavage. Her lips were a light shade of peach with a hint of pink. It was an inviting color. The gun on her hip added an element of danger that was invigorating.
For a second, Alison forgot how to breathe.
"I overheard your call." Emily glanced at the phone in her hand. "Sounded like good news."
"Very good news." Alison tucked her phone into the front pocket on her scrub top. "There was a little girl hit in a crosswalk. She's been here almost a week, but she's improved enough to go home."
Alison wasn't just smiling. She was beaming, emitting a radiant glow into the room.
"What brings you in?" she asked, concern written all over her face.
She wasn't really concerned. Alison knew exactly what she was doing there. She'd been waiting weeks for this appointment.
"Is everything okay?" Alison eyed her, feigning a worried look.
"Getting my stitches out." Emily said it as if it was freeing her of chains that were binding her.
"Has it been two weeks already?" Alison touched her jaw with her index and middle finger. "I'm here so much that the days blur together." She dropped her hand away from her face. "What time is your appointment?"
"Oh…um…" Emily looked at the clock and reached up to rub the back of her neck, a half-grin on her face. "Ten minutes ago."
"Why don't you come with me? I'll take care of you."
"Do you always take such a special interest in your patients?" Emily gave her a curious look.
Alison answered with a smile.
"I have an appreciation for my work."
"I have an appreciation for your work, too considering that it saved my life." Emily ran her fingers across the top of her blouse.
God help me… Alison licked her lips.
"I really don't mind."
"You just want to see me with my shirt off again, don't you?" Emily cocked an eyebrow at her.
Alison tried not to react, tried not to think about seeing her shirtless body. Her tone muscles. Her tight abs. Muscular thighs. Thighs that could no doubt grip her and hold her in place when they were in bed together.
"Shall I buy you dinner first?" Alison managed not to choke on her words, forcing the sentence out as a playful jest.
Emily was too stunned to retort. She laughed.
"Come with me." Alison flipped her wrist and led the way. Emily walked in sync with her.
"So…" Emily looked at the light blue coat of paint on the wall. "Is the food here as bland as I remember?"
Alison's lips twitched into a smile.
"If you're seriously thinking about asking me out you should know it's highly unethical considering I'm your doctor."
Not for much longer. Emily just smiled in response.
Alison led her to a private room and closed the door.
"I'll need you to take your shirt off." Alison reached for a pair of gloves.
"Mmm. Kinky." Emily winked jokingly.
Emily slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the black lacy bra that was barely covering her chest.
She'd worn it on purpose.
Alison did her best not to stare. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a paper gown that had a flap in the front.
"Bra too." She handed Emily the gown.
"You don't have to ask me twice."
Alison let a smile slip out, but turned around to give her privacy. Emily was surprised with her level of professionalism. She was throwing all her game at her, but the doctor wasn't budging.
She didn't see the blonde squeezing her legs together to soothe the aching throb at her core. She didn't see her biting her lip to suppress a groan.
Emily took her bra off, leaving the gap in the gown opening in the front. She sat down on the table.
"I'm ready for you to ravish me." She teased as she leaned back on her palms.
Alison turned around with a laugh.
"You are trouble, Detective."
"With a capital T."
Alison slipped the right side of the modesty gown away to get a better look at the injury. Emily saw the moment that Alison went from playful to professional. All of her focus was on Emily's healing scar. Her bright blue eyes tightened in concentration as she observed the mark on her body. She ran a gloved fingertip over it.
Alison traced the sutures slowly, observing each and every one of them. She had taken her time with them.
Perfect.
"It healed perfectly." She stared at her work.
Beautiful.
The brunette was marked by her, but for the first time ever…the mark wasn't one to showcase guilt. Emily would forever bear the scar that saved her life. Alison would always be a part of her.
Emily watched as Alison gently removed the sutures. She felt a funny tugging feeling with each stitch coming out, but it didn't hurt.
Once Alison was finished she traced her finger over the incision. Emily expected the doctor to make a silly remark when her fingertip hit the underside of her breast, but she was respectful and gracious. Her discipline was something Emily admired.
She traced the length of the scar again, her index finger slipping over one of her ribs as she searched for any indication of imperfection.
"How has the pain been?" She couldn't bear the thought of her in pain.
"Getting better every day." Emily put her hand next to Alison's, their fingers nearly touching. Their eyes met briefly, but Alison was more focused on her injury than she was on her. "I have phantom spasms every now and then. And sometimes when I overexert myself I can feel it. But it's not too bad."
Oh, no. That simply won't do. I won't be able to rest if you're hurting.
"The spasms will dissipate with time. I can get you something to help with that if you'd like."
"I'll be fine."
Alison looked up at her and held eye contact for the first time since she'd started observing the injury.
Of course you will. You're strong.
"Mmmhmm." Alison mentally took note of the dark circles under Emily's eyes. "And how are you doing with the psychological aspect of your injury?"
She knew she had to tread carefully, because psychology wasn't her specialty. She just wanted to make sure Emily was okay.
If Emily was offended by the question, it didn't show. In fact, she was quite open in her response.
"I've been talking to the station shrink. I've had a few nightmares." She said it so casually that Alison wondered how often she'd had nightmares that she was accustomed to them. Her face tightened, brows knitting together. Alison expected to see fear, but instead she saw anger. "I can see his beady little eyes."
When she blinked Alison saw Emily's mind going back to the scene. She knew that look. She saw it in her reflection every day.
Emily's eyes were fixed, but she wasn't mentally present. She pressed her lips together, frowning.
"He looked at me like I was nothing. Like I wasn't human. Like killing me wouldn't bother him in the least."
Alison knew all too well how that felt. She wondered if the people she killed saw her the same way that Emily saw the punk who shot her. She wondered what her brother would think of her if he could see her now.
Could he see her?
If there was a Heaven was he watching her in disgust?
You must hate me. Seeing what I am.
She had to fight back her emotions of grief to stay in the present with Emily.
"I hope he's going away for a very long time." Secretly, Alison wanted the shooter out in the world so she could carve him up into little pieces for hurting Emily. She wanted to hear him scream and beg for his life.
"Armed robbery, possession of illegal firearm, aggravated assault, attempted murder of a police officer. And he has priors on his record. He won't see the light of day for decades." Emily seemed satisfied.
Pity. Alison was not satisfied. He deserved much worse. He shouldn't get a roof over his head and three square meals a day on the taxpayers' dollars. He deserved to be strapped down and hacked to pieces while he screamed and cried.
That's something all of her victims shared.
They all cried. The pain made it inevitable.
Emily rubbed at her eyes. Alison could tell she wasn't getting enough sleep.
"Would you like for me to prescribe something to help you sleep?" Alison found herself irrationally angry at the thought of Emily having nightmares. She wanted to make them go away.
The detective shook her head.
"I'll be fine. Aside from a few nightmares and a couple of PTSD episodes involving fireworks and car doors slamming I'm working through it in therapy."
Emily found it incredibly easy to be honest with her. Perhaps it was because Alison had already seen all there was to see of her physical being. Her hands had been all over her – inside of her chest cavity. Whatever the reason for Emily's candid nature, Alison found it refreshing. The detective was an open book. Alison liked to read books.
"I was cleared for duty mentally last week. It's just this pesky physical aspect that's holding me back. I'd really like to get back to work, but my boss won't let me come back until I get the all clear." Emily pushed her lips out in a pout.
She knew how to flirt to get exactly what she wanted. But Alison knew what would happen if she got back into the field too soon. She would dive headfirst into action.
"Light desk duty only." Alison furrowed her brow. "I'd like for you to take it easy for the next two weeks until your muscles have had proper time to heal."
"You sound like Toby." Emily rolled her eyes.
The partner.
The man with the eyebrows who had an unhealthy attachment to Emily. He could be a problem down the line. But she'd deal with it if it became an issue.
Alison turned around again to let her get dressed. She disposed of her gloves. After she had given Emily ample time to get her bra and blouse back on she turned to face her.
The brunette had left an extra button undone. Alison could see her bra.
You did that on purpose you cheeky thing.
"So." Emily trailed her fingers against the edge of the table.
Alison watched her fingers. Her long sleek fingers. They would be so satisfying in bed.
I bet she is a fucking rock star in the sack.
"I'm officially not your patient anymore Doctor…" Emily trailed off. It dawned on her for the first time that she didn't even know her last name.
The blonde had introduced herself as Alison. She'd said her last name once or twice, but Emily couldn't remember it. The entire time she had been in the hospital she'd never seen her in a lab coat. And the drugs in her system made everything hazy.
"DiLaurentis." Alison answered the question lingering in the air.
"Right. I'm sorry. I should have known that. These last few weeks have been a blur." Emily thought about the name. The familiarity of it. "DiLaurentis." She put her index finger against her chin as she tried to process the name. "Why does that sound so familiar?"
"Not for good reasons." Alison stared at the floor. She saw a flash. A puddle of blood. Her brother's body.
She blinked back into reality just as the name registered for Emily.
"Wait, DiLaurentis as in…"
"One in the same." Alison nodded, clearing her throat, trying not to go back to her past again.
Emily knew exactly why the name struck a chord in her. She'd studied a case in school. An entire family slaughtered, save for a seven-year-old girl. The girl's name had been kept out of the media, but the name DiLaurentis was splashed all over the place. The little girl had been kept out of the spotlight, but everyone knew it was her.
That little girl was all grown up now.
The horrors she must have seen. Emily swallowed a knot in her throat.
She knew what it was like to hold the body of a dead loved one, but she hadn't been a child when Maya died. She hadn't witnessed her murder.
There was a heaviness in the air. Emily wasn't sure what to say to lighten the burden. It was the first time she'd been tongue-tied in front of the doctor.
Alison took the initiative to clear the air. She refused to let her past drive a wedge between her and the detective.
"I became a doctor because of what I saw that day."
It was the truth. She'd learned that day that she enjoyed it. The blood. The bodies. She liked the human body and what it entailed. Everything inside and out. She liked general surgery because it gave her the opportunity to explore all areas of anatomy. All she saw below her were bodies. They weren't people. They weren't real to her.
But Emily was different. She was real. Alison had felt something when she was on the operating table.
It was new.
It was also terrifying.
"You'd think I'd want to get as far away from blood and dying people as possible. But seeing them…" She forced a subtle shudder, and she saw Emily's face soften in sympathy, "Seeing my family…" Stop, swallow a knot in your throat. She has to believe you truly grieve. "I grew up never wanting anyone to feel that pain. I wanted to save lives, because I couldn't save my family."
Because I couldn't save Jason. She amended in thought. Fuck my parents.
Emily didn't say anything, but she reached out and her fingertips grazed Alison's hand. Seconds later she was clutching it, silently offering her support.
Alison thought she saw something in her eyes. Was it Maya? Was she thinking about seeing her in a casket?
"Would you like to sit down somewhere and talk sometime?" Emily offered. "No pressure. No judgment. I promise. We don't have to talk about anything you don't want to talk about. I would just like to get to know you better. What do you say?"
"I think I'd like that very much." Alison smiled, looking at their joined hands.
Alison's phone chimed at her. It startled them both out of the moment. She glanced at a message and then motioned towards the door.
"If you'll follow me…"
I'd follow you anywhere. Emily almost said it out loud. Instead she responded with a simple retort.
"Alright." She pushed herself to her feet.
As Alison moved to pull the door open she paused. Her hand was still on the handle. She turned back to face Emily with a smile on her face.
"So, now that you're not my patient anymore, would it be too forward of me to ask you out for drinks tonight?"
Just one glass. Emily shook it off.
"I'm dry."
"Really? You look very tasty to me." Alison waggled her brows.
She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Was she flirting naturally now?
"No." Emily chuckled. "I mean I don't drink."
"Ah." Alison slowly nodded her head.
She didn't pry, but Emily offered,
"I go to meetings sometimes. I don't really have a problem anymore, but I don't want it to develop into a problem. Once I start drinking I have a hard time stopping. I can, but it's not easy for me."
Just one glass.
Emily waved off the voice in her head.
"But I would love to take you to dinner. How about it? A thank you for saving my life?" This was playing out exactly like Emily wanted it to. "When do you get off?"
When you're buried inside of me. Alison licked her lips.
Alison smiled at her.
"You were actually the last patient on my shift. I've got a few other things I need to tie up here. But I have a short break if you'd like to join me in our break room. I would be happy to split my lunch with you." Alison knew if she offered, the detective would most definitely say yes.
She also knew that her generosity would beguile Emily. She'd been working her charms on people over the years, but the only person she cared to impress…to actually charm…was the woman standing in front of her.
Emily, of course, melted at her offer.
"That's very kind of you."
That's a yes.
Alison took her through the corridors, down an elevator. When they got off the elevator they took a left and ended up going down a narrow hallway, which both of them liked because of the close proximity. It led to a set of double doors labeled STAFF ONLY.
Alison looked at her and winked,
"It'll be our little secret."
The wink clearly did something to Emily's libido. Alison could see it in her eyes.
The break room didn't offer much. A few tables, all of them empty at the moment. Two vending machines and a large refrigerator. It was open and spacious with a nice view outside.
They both washed their hands. Emily stopped to playfully flick some soap bubbles at her, unaware that bubbles were a trigger for her.
Seven years old.
Bubbles.
Barbie towel.
But when Alison looked into Emily's eyes she was able to center herself. Though it wasn't soon enough. Emily had seen something in her expression.
"Sorry, did I cross a line?"
"No." Alison smiled warmly at her. The brunette was being careful with her now that she knew about her past. "Not at all."
"I'd like for you to tell me if I do." It was the same sentiment she'd expressed in her hospital room when she was flirting with her. She clearly cared about Alison's consent, which only made her more attractive.
"I doubt you ever will." It just didn't seem to be in the detective's nature. Despite her playful attitude, she took her professionalism seriously.
Alison reached for a stack of paper towels and handed some to Emily.
"You don't have to tiptoe around me, Emily. I'm the same woman I was before you found out about my past." She rubbed the paper towels against her hands, drying them off.
"Of course. I wasn't trying to make it uncomfortable." Emily was completely at ease. She spoke the truth every time she opened her mouth. It was refreshing. "It's just that I recognized the look in your eyes."
"You've lost people you love, too." Alison understood what she was trying to say.
"I'm sensitive to it." She reached out to toss her paper towel in the garbage at the same time as Alison and their fingertips brushed together.
They smiled at one another. Alison saw Emily tug her lip into her mouth and nip down against it. It was the first time the detective had been flummoxed around her.
It was the sexiest fucking thing she'd ever seen.
"We don't have to talk about your past, Alison. I'm happy just to sit here and have lunch with you." It wasn't exactly ravishing her with her clothes off, but it was a start.
"I knew there was something I liked about you." Alison walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a cloudy container with a blue top. "Not many people use the break room. Most of the time we like to get out. Get some fresh air."
When the doctor turned around she saw that Emily was in a crouching position over a chair, half-sitting, half-standing.
"Would you like to go outside?" Emily glanced out the windows.
So very thoughtful. I quite like her.
"Here is good."
Here is private. Here maybe we can close the blinds and sneak in a quick fuck.
She'd been thinking about Emily since the day she'd seen her at Talia's murder scene. She never dreamed they would be bonding over bullet wounds and hospital stays. But that's exactly what had happened.
Every time she'd passed Emily's room she couldn't help but go in to see her. Sometimes she found herself making excuses to go by. Emily was so alluring. So funny. She didn't have to bat her big brown eyes for Alison to go gaga over her.
The surgeon was fascinated by the detective. She had never been attracted to anyone before, not like she was attracted to Emily. She had never fantasized about anyone before Emily. Now the brunette was the vision in her mind as she reached for her favorite toy every night. She would think about little comments Emily made when she visited her as she closed her eyes and imagined the detective in bed with her.
"I'll be dreaming of you, Doc."
"I wish I was your ophthalmologist so I could look into your eyes all day."
"You should take your temperature. You're looking quite hot today." Despite the fact that her scrubs had been covered in blood and urine.
"Your specialty must be cardiology, because you have my heart."
She worked her charm with her pick-up lines, but she never took it any further. She'd even stopped to ask to make sure she wasn't making Alison uncomfortable.
"I don't want you to think I'm just some womanizer who hits on pretty girls. I really enjoy these little moments. They get me through the day. But if it's too much, you can always tell me to stop. I would never want to make you uncomfortable."
The fact that she had even thought to ask for her permission to continue flirting had tickled something inside of her.
"You're fine, Detective." She'd replied. "Extremely fine." She'd emphasized fine and changed its meaning, which had pleased the brunette.
Alison smiled as she sat down across from Emily, opening the neat little tray of lunch she'd prepared for herself…and for Emily. She'd been hoping this would happen when she saw Emily's name on the schedule.
She'd made turkey and cheddar pinwheels with spinach and mustard and a side of pickle chips. She'd taken note of Emily's tastes when she was hospitalized. The detective liked savory foods. When she had sandwiches she had to have mustard on them. She never left a pickle untouched. She also liked fruit and veggie trays and anything with proteins, so the blonde had packed grapes, blueberries, carrots with dip, and almonds.
She offered the tray to Emily first, but Emily waited on her to help herself to the first serving. Alison liked her chivalry. She grabbed a toothpick and stabbed it through a pinwheel, her mind momentarily flashing to the knives she'd used to cut into her victims over the years.
"So, tell me a little bit about yourself." Alison took a bite of her lunch.
"Oh, you know…Scorpio. 5'9, without heels…which I rarely ever wear." So she was a woman who preferred comfort over fashion. Alison liked that. "I enjoy long walks on the beach." Emily beamed at her flirtatiously from across the table as she picked up a pinwheel.
Alison chuckled.
"Gemini. 5'6 without heels." She replied back. "But I enjoy wearing them on a night out, so you can count on another inch or two." She winked. "I like the beach, too."
She choked out the last sentence, a lie. The beach reminded her too much of Cape May. Too much of him. But maybe if she went with the right person someday she'd be able to view it differently.
"What do you like to do when you're not bogged down with patients like me?" Emily reached for a few grapes.
Alison had a hard time concentrating on the question because she was too busy watching Emily pop the grapes into her mouth one by one.
"Ah…not my patient anymore." Alison wagged her finger at her. "Otherwise this would be unethical."
"Unethical." Emily repeated the word with a sensual tone. "You make it sound so forbidden. We're both adults here."
"Strict hospital policy." Had it not been for that policy she would have been in Emily's pants weeks ago.
But it had given her time to think about things…to take things slowly. It was something she'd never done before.
"Seriously, what do you like to do?" Emily smiled.
I'd like to do YOU. On this table. Your hands in my hair. My hands inside your pants…
But instead she scooped up some almonds and said,
"I have a few hobbies that keep me on my toes." She paused, but didn't say anything more.
Emily grinned.
"Okay, play the mysterious card all you want. Makes this more interesting." Emily lifted her brows.
Alison suddenly realized she had to give her something to go on. If Emily started digging too deep into her hobbies she'd find out who she really was.
"I know it sounds silly, but I like to research things." People. Their behavior. Where to kill them. "Medical wise. It keeps me sharp. And I enjoy reading."
"Ah. There we go. Favorite author?" Her long dainty fingers reached in to the tray, grasping at a few blueberries.
"Charles Dickens. He was a sucker for happy endings." Alison picked up another pinwheel and nibbled on it. "Did you ever read Great Expectations?"
"In high school." Emily nodded. "I'm a little foggy on the ending though."
"Pip gets Estella in the end."
The reality was that Pip didn't get Estella. The original ending had Estella married to someone else and Pip single. It was changed to please the masses. Alison like that the known ending was a masquerade, pretending to be something it was not. She related to that.
"What do you like to do, Detective?" Alison picked up a grape and rolled it around in her fingers.
Something in the gleam of Emily's eyes told Alison exactly what she liked to do, "flirt with you."
"Anything and everything. Work keeps me pretty busy, but I like to get around. Experience different things. Try different places to eat. Visit different parks and nature trails. I enjoy learning new things."
Of course she liked adventure. She was a cop.
"My dad was in the army, so I traveled a lot when I was little. Couldn't get enough of it."
"What made you settle here?" Curiosity beckoned.
"I don't know. It just felt like home."
Alison smiled, completely captivated by her zest for life. Emily felt things on such an intense level. Alison wanted to know what that was like. To put it all out there.
They went back and forth for about ten minutes before they were interrupted by Alison's phone beeping at her. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh.
"Perhaps we can continue this at dinner tonight." She typed a reply to a text she'd gotten from a nurse. "I have to wrap up the discharge for the girl I was telling you about." She paused and thought about something. "Then I have to conduct an autopsy…"
Take the bait.
"Oh." Emily frowned. "One of your patients?"
"No, actually." Alison shook her head. "It's…well…"
She hesitated, playing the game. Emily needed to believe that she didn't know the detective was working the case.
"You've probably heard about the latest man who was murdered." She had Emily's complete undivided attention. The brunette pressed her lips into a thin line. "The police put a rush on it, so it needs to be done as soon as possible."
"I thought you were a trauma surgeon." Emily lifted a curious brow. "They have you performing police autopsies? Is Doctor Montgomery tied up?"
Alison sometimes forgot that Aria crossed fields. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that Emily knew her.
"My specialty is general surgery." Alison explained, rising to her feet. "And yes, we're unfortunately short-staffed. Doctor Montgomery is out with a terrible flu."
It wasn't really the flu. It only mimicked the flu. Alison had given her just enough of a flavorless drug to make her illness seem like the flu. She hated to do it, because the woman was one of the few doctors Alison liked.
Aria Montgomery was a quirky little thing. Alison had sized her up on her first day. Pale white skin. Jet black hair with a thick pink streak in it. She looked like she belonged in the morgue, so it wasn't a surprise when Aria introduced herself as the forensic pathologist.
"I see dead people." She'd grinned jokingly.
But she was all business when it came to her job. What Aria did was a special kind of art. Alison had assisted on a few of her autopsies. Watching the bouncy young brunette transform into a deeply concentrating artist was fascinating.
Alison actually liked and respected her, so she didn't enjoy it when on rare occasions she had to keep her from work. She had to make sure she could cover for her sometimes. Today in particular was of the utmost importance. Because she knew Emily would be coming in today, and she had plans for her.
She needed Emily to see her in her element.
Alison made a mental note to check in on her fellow doctor, to bring her some soup and see if she needed anything after work.
Emily stood up across from her, a worried look on her face.
"Doctor Montgomery is sick?" Her kindness and her concern was so appealing. She was very much a quirky flirt, but she also had a softness that made her very attractive.
Alison put her empty tray back in the refrigerator. They had managed to eat every bite.
"She'll bounce back in no time." Alison would see to that. She was the reason Aria was sick. She would be the reason she got better. She was going to take care of her after work. She'd been checking in on her frequently.
"Are you trained in forensics?" Emily looked at the blonde, tilting her head slightly, a curious introspective expression on her face.
Alison smiled and laughed softly,
"That tends to be what general means in medicine." She mentally gave her a teasing poke.
Emily nodded, the introspection changing to something harder, more professional.
What is on your mind, Detective? You want to tell me about the case, don't you?
Emily opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. She considered whether or not she wanted to say what she was about to say. She had to be careful about how much she revealed.
"Can you be discreet?" Emily asked.
"I'm a doctor. It's written into the oath that I take." It got a laugh out of Emily.
"The man that was murdered is part of an ongoing investigation. The Scarlet Letter case. I'm sure you've heard of it. I'm actually working on it. He's one of our victims. But it hasn't leaked to the press yet."
"He's…" Alison put on a show of shock. "Oh, I should have known. Of course you know." She cocked her head in thought. "This…well, it might be unorthodox, but I just had an idea."
It was a lie. She'd planned for it. Meticulously crafting her schedule around Emily's appointment so she could take her down and show the brunette her work. To bond with her. To become part of the case, but not as a suspect. As a confidant.
"If you'd like to join me…" She put her fingers against her chin thoughtfully. "I can get clearance if you think you can stomach it."
Emily thought about Garrett Reynolds and what his last moments were like. She'd seen the pictures, but she hadn't gotten the full picture. Not like she had at the other crime scenes. Now that she knew what Reynolds was involved in it painted an entirely different picture.
She wanted more than anything to see the body, even though she knew Toby would bark at her for doing too much when she was supposed to be resting.
"I've seen pictures. I know what the body looks like."
"The body." So cold. So detached. That intrigued Alison.
"The smells and fluids can be overwhelming…"
"I've been to the crime scenes." Maya. Lyndon. "I'll be fine." It was curt, but she hadn't meant for it to be.
Emily closed her eyes and took a breath, but it was so subtle that Alison didn't notice. When Emily opened her eyes back up she was thinking of only one thing.
The smells and the fluids.
Maya's rotting flesh.
The blood.
The flies.
"I appreciate you being so hospitable." The warmth was back in Emily's tone. "And I'd like to join you, if you'll have me."
"Of course. I'll escort you back to the waiting room and then finish up with my patient. Then I'll come and get you." Alison opened the door and waved for her to step forward.
"Ladies first." Emily gripped the side of the door and pulled it open wider for Alison to step out into the hallway.
So chivalrous.
She walked out first, Emily a step behind her.
Alison smiled.
Emily Fields was an intoxicating new element in her life. She brought something fresh to the table. Alison knew without a doubt that she was going to like playing this new game, though perhaps it wasn't going to be a game after all.
Perhaps it was going to be something more.
A/N: Pam's tornado line was actually something I stole from the show. As you can see, Emily is stubborn, but not so stubborn that she doesn't know her limits. She has Grumpy Grandpa Toby and Doctor DiLaurentis to keep her humble. Hope you all enjoyed their back and forth this chapter. More to come.